


I Found

by BookofLife



Series: I Found [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Hallucinations, Season/Series 02, Stolen Moments, Wishful Thinking, possibilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 06:49:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7158140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookofLife/pseuds/BookofLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A scene that could have happened... but didn't.<br/>Set moments after Oliver's hallucination of Slade Wilson sends him flying into the glass case in the Foundry.<br/>Season 2 episode 10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Found

_“You're not real.”_

_“Neither are you.”_

_“You told everyone when you started this crusade that it was about making up for your father's sins. That was a lie. This charade is to atone for your sins.”_

_“You're dead.”_

_“You are not a hero. Or a friend. Or a brother. You are nothing. Do not turn your back on me, not again.”_

_“You're gone.”_

_“Wherever I am It's time you joined me. They say a coward dies a thousand deaths. But even that wouldn't be enough for you.”_

_“I tried to save you! And her.”_

_“But you couldn't. Just like you couldn't save this city. The island didn't make you strong, kid. It revealed you to be weak…”  
_  
Lifting himself on his forearms, Oliver scanned the room. _He’s gone_ …

**Weak.**

He was.

_I am. Weak._

His eyes fell to the floor… to his green leather.

It was something he felt in his bones – that weakness - as he lay there amidst the glass – defeated by his subconscious. By guilt buried down fathoms deep.

It was in his heart now, aching in his chest: the _memories_. The ghosts.

They still hurt. Old grief’s, old rage, an old shame… it’s a lie to believe that the past can’t cause you pain.

His memory of Slade Wilson was… graphic. Detailed. _Too_ detailed.

_It was like he was really here._

It had taken Oliver a minute to realise that the man was a hallucination… but then this _illusion_ beat him to a pulp. Took his will, told him every single thing he secretly thought about himself before throwing him into the glass case that held his Arrow suit.

 _A few seconds_. It had taken just a few seconds. _And he’s right. The island_ … his time there simply proved that he _wasn’t_ good. That he wasn’t a leader, that he couldn’t trust and wasn’t to be trusted. That he… that he isn’t the hero he was trying so hard to be.

_“Maybe there’s another way.”_

There was; he found it. _I tried… so hard._ And he succeeded. _I… did, didn’t I?_ True: he hadn’t taken a life. Not since Tommy’s death. Except…

The Count- _that was different_. It was Felicity. _There was no choice._

But he’d still killed.

And that _urge_ … like alcoholism; it never goes away. It stays and demands and doesn’t let up. Was he even strong enough to resist something like that forever? Killing was his means to surviving; a logical decision made in violent circumstances. To turn so assuredly; to twist at 180 degrees, such a sharp transition…

Hard to resist didn’t cover it.

_“I tried to save you! And her.”_

_“But you couldn't. Just like you couldn't save this city. The island didn't make you strong, kid. It revealed you to be weak…”_

Prone, head bowed to the floor, he didn’t hear her come in. Didn’t hear anything until…

“Oliver?!”

Hands – if he’d been even a little aware he’d have realised how soft they were, how small they felt against his face and neck as they held him – grasped at him and he… _reacted_.

He just saw _Slade_. He _felt_ Slade.

Rising swiftly to his knees he turned lashed out, a hand seizing one wrist and twisting _sharply_ -

“Ah!”

The sound forced its way inside him, slamming into his spinal cord.

Blinking he paused, feeling the thrum of life between his fingers and realised he’d wrapped a hand around her throat-

_Her._

He froze, staring.

Finally… a blur of _blonde_ appeared, clearing around the edges until the heavy rise and fall of her chest was obvious. Until the cream of her skin was visible, until the clear picture of Oliver’s left hand damn near breaking her wrist was shown to him… until the luminous blue of her eyes shone over him – lighting him, warming him – echoing only concern when he had no right to it.

Locked in place. That’s what he was. He couldn’t move. Wide eyed, he just stared at her; open mouthed and horrified. His hand. Around. Her. Throat. _Why can’t I move?! She isn’t Slade. It’s Felicity. Move. Now._

It wasn’t helping.

“O-Oliver…” She whispered; his hand wouldn’t allow for more. And it allowed him to breathe, her voice. Chest constricting he sucked in a breath that _rattled_. “It’s okay.” Fingers feather light, they were plotting a course across his hand. Marking a territory of pure love – the way she always has – and care – the way it’s always _been_ – as she brought him back to the present, to his own body. As she coaxed ‘Oliver’ out of his hiding place. “You’re okay.”

He hadn’t realised until then how _not_ okay he was. And that his body had been waiting to hear those words, that he was safe, that he was _okay_ …

Maybe he’d always been waiting.

A gush of air suddenly left him and the hand around her throat jolted before flailing away. The feeling in his arms returned full force and they felt like dead weights as he practically tore away from her. _Oh god, I hurt her. I hurt her. I hurt her… not her. I-_

**You are not a hero.**

Licking his lips he fell back, his hip connecting with the floor as his hands slapped down behind him, ready to move away from her. To run away.

But she didn’t let him move far.

“Wait.” Absently, he realised she was on her knees with him; her tight skirt stretched around her thighs as she pulled herself to slide closer on her legs following the pull of her palms against the floor. “Oliver.” Her hand reached out to him, near his face-

He flinched.

She blinked. Frozen. The look on her face… like her heart had stopped. Like…she was in pain.

He was talking, mumbling before he could stop himself, anything to change her expression, anything to remove that hurt. “I’m sorry.” It was more of a breath than words. “I’m so sorry. I…” Anything to make this better. “I didn’t, I don’t…” He’d die to make it better. “It wasn’t you.” What was he even saying? Licking his lips, he blinked; his sight was blurring around the edges. “I would never… do that. To you.” It wasn’t coming out right and he shook his head, seconds away from standing, seconds away from heading towards the bathroom to vomit and maybe take a long shower to wash away the shame. But in the end he just said her name. “Felicity.” Like it was all he could say, like that was all that was needed for her to understand.

And it was. She relaxed, utterly. But her hand was still reaching out to him. He wrenched himself away again – this time purposefully, almost growling at her. _Don’t touch me_. And he made every effort to move but she leaned forwards, leaned _over_ him. There was warmth against his cheeks before he realised her hands had cupped his face; gently but firmly. Steadily. And the contrast to the cool air of the Foundry sent a shudder through him, his eyes fluttering closed for a few seconds.

It was only when he closed them that he comprehended that they were wet and he was surprised by the drop trailing down the side of his nose. Softly, her thumb wiped it away and he blinked his eyes back open.

He wanted to hide from her. Embarrassment clawed its way through his chest, pulling at the vital organ there.

Embarrassment… and anger.

“Hi.” Breathing a little too shallowly now for something this simple, Felicity’s smile trembled. “Are you back with me?”

Tongue lodged in his throat, he just looked at her.

She needed to let go. Right the hell now… She needed to stay where she was.

Silently, he begged her to judge him, to condemn him. To hurt him some more.

Frustrated at the fact that he even had hallucinations in the first place – _thank you Barry_ – the… exposure he now felt, that his mind was currently in a place he’d never wanted to share with her – maybe with Digg, who could understand having personal demons – that his guard was dropped after this latest cognitive attack, that anger was slowly rising in his chest – anger at himself, he tugged his head out from between the security of her palms.

“ _Don’t_.” He bit out.

By how fitted her skirt was he saw the muscles of her abdomen contract. Pressing her lips together, her expression slightly fractured and he felt regret slice into him. _I’m sorry_.

But then she blew his stance of resistance to smithereens. And it wasn’t with force, it wasn’t with hard words and harder truths… slowly, _so_ carefully, she simply moved forwards again with her hands. Determined.

His eyes didn’t follow her movements; they remained locked on hers – _what is she doing?_ \- like his body was still very much locked in place amongst the glass. _We don’t do this._

“Felicity, don’t.” _Please_. 

His gaze _begged_ her to continue.

 _Please_ …

Against the sides of his face, her palms gently nudged at him – telling him through touch alone that it was okay, that this was allowed – a gentle ‘ _hey’_.

_…Oh._

The tension in him _dropped_. As did his eyes; he couldn’t look at her anymore.

There was a smile in her voice when she spoke. “You scared me there, for a minute.”

His eyes slammed back to hers. “Don’t joke.” _Not about my hands around your throat_. He looked there now, at her neck. “How bad is it?”

“I can barely feel it Oliver.”

“Don’t-”

“I’m not lying.” She firmly stated; her eyes focused on keeping him with her. “And stop saying ‘don’t’.”

“It’s fine, Felicity.” He stated, knowing that her next question would inevitably be ‘what happened? So he interred the situation. “Everything’s fine; this was…”

Head turned to the side, searching for a clue, for something to explain but… he didn’t know _what_ this was.

“Another hallucination?” She pressed. And again it was kind. Quiet.

He hated it. How she could see right through him, that she could see his guilt clearly… he just _couldn’t_.

Yet before he could pull away again, the tips of her fingers held fast - to what would be his sideburns if he had any – and she spoke. “Would you hate me? For my sins?”

“What?” He whispered with startled eyes, staring up at her.

She took a deep breath but her voice still wavered. Barely noticeable, but still… “I’ve never told this to anyone before.” She smiled and it was so small. “I used to be very different to how I am now. I wasn’t as… good a person.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Her expression was sympathetic, shrewd and slightly sad all at once. “Don’t put me on a pedestal.”

But it wasn’t a pedestal. She truly was good. A good person, a good friend… selfless in so many ways. Light. The kind of decency that was innate.

“In college… I used to be part of this group. We were ‘hacktivists’, for lack of a better term. I was the main hacker of the group and I used my knowledge of systems, coding and cracking to break into corrupt government databases and ‘right wrongs’ so to speak.” Her expression became sort of melancholy. “I suppose you could say it was my first attempt at heroism.” But it was also self-derisive. As if she thought herself foolish.

His head – still held by her – moved slowly side to side. “Felicity…”

“I was in this group with my boyfriend, Coop. Cooper Sheldon.” Her hands trembled then and he bit back a surprising shot of… _something_. Cooper Sheldon. She’d never mentioned an old boyfriend…and by the way she’d started to tremble, by the way she referred to him - _Coop_ \- he hadn’t just been one ex-boyfriend of several.

She had a past… that he knew nothing off. And it… bothered him. Even knowing that he rarely – if ever – shared the secrets of his own past, it still bothered him. Made him wonder.

“Anyway, Coop, he… he used the code of a virus I created. A virus so dangerous…” She shook her head. “I should never have created it.” She looked him dead-on willing him to understand that violence and aggressive acts of terrorism weren’t just made by madmen with bows and guns. They were computers and geniuses with too much time on their hands. “It could destroy the structure of Starling in seconds. But I didn’t create it to destroy.”

“You created it to _save_.” He inferred.

She nodded, slightly taken back at his immediate response. At how well he knew her. “But Cooper had a different objective. He used it to wipe all evidence of any student loans from the MIT financial database.” And if she was slightly defensive with her next words, well… he’d never been very level headed in regards to Laurel, had he?

”He just wanted to make it better for the poorer students; I mean the interest alone on some of those loans was extortion to say the least.”

Now that he thought about it, how had she managed to pay hers? He was a rich kid; money had never been an issue. And after the shipwreck, money wasn’t a thing that could save his life; something that had utterly thrown him. Away from the island, in Coast City, China and in Russia, he’d lived frugally at best. Still… he sometimes forgot how difficult life could be for other people.

She answered his silent question. “I was on a scholarship, so it wasn’t as bad for me; I only had my student grant to pay back. And Cooper… for a moment he lost sight of who we were.” Already so quiet, her voice decreased in volume. “We were supposed to beat specific ‘unfair’ systems without directly interfering with them. He… took advantage of my intellect to try and be a hero.” She wasn’t looking at him anymore. “He got arrested for it. Incarcerated for years.” She swallowed. “For being the genius hacker the FBI had been searching for.”

Mouth slightly open, he looked at her with new knowledge seeing her in a different shade of light that was still… light. A deeper shade; it wasn’t a surface skim, it was a deep glow.

“What happened to him?” He murmured.

“He killed himself.” She whispered.

That… wasn’t what he’d expected.

A reunion between the two of them? Maybe. They weren’t together now and, for all he knew, hadn’t been together when he’d first brought his ‘latte covered laptop’ into her life. But he thought she’d surely she’d seen him since then. But never… death. The finality of it, that Felicity experienced it…

“Did you love him?”

He hadn’t meant to ask that question, or any question really. But looking at her… he wanted to know if Felicity Smoak had ever been in love before. If she’d known what that was like.

Eyes flickering back to his, she gave him the barest of nods, telling with her eyes more than anything else what she couldn’t say.

Yes, she’d loved this… _Cooper_. A lot. Like… in a way that he’d never loved Laurel.

It was Felicity; she didn’t do half measures.

“He was a lucky guy.” It was barely audible and borne of that same _something_ that made him feel distinctly uncomfortable as he sat there on the floor.

She sucked in a breath. “You… think so?”

“I do.”

“Even though he committed suicide because he’d been sentence to life in a super max facility because he took the fall for the virus _I_ created?”

Yes. That was different…

Locking him in a staring contest, Felicity waited patiently – if ruffled – for him to say something. Anything.

He didn’t.

Swallowing again, she closed her arms – her slack grip gaining traction again and the warmth of her palms against the cool air left him in an odd place of calm.

“I had to move past that. I had to somehow shed that guilt,” Felicity said, hushed, “because I knew that… _he’d_ made that decision.” Her eyes opened and she looked at him again. “He was the one who decided to use my creation. The way to hell is paved with good intentions.” The fact that her eyes shone with tears told him that she still hadn’t fully faced it, or that if she had… she hadn’t fully dropped her guilt. Her grief. But she had come to terms with who she was and what she was capable of. “He was a nice guy, a good guy, an idealist. And sometimes idealism becomes a dangerous romanticism.” She understood herself. Knew exactly who she was and what she’d choose. “I’m a good person, but even good people can do bad things – even as an accident.” Pressing lightly against his cheeks, it was like she was channelling her words in to feelings through her hands. “If I can forgive myself and recognise that sometimes it isn’t my fault then why can’t you?”

He frowned. “It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?” She arched a brow. “What’s the use of being haunted by your memories if those memories keep you in the dark? If you don’t learn from them, if you don’t grow?”

His gaze fluttered away. “Maybe I-”

“Deserve it?”

Nail on the head.

Her hands left him them, one dropping to his uplifted knee and the other to her lap and he remained turned away from her. Lips pressed together. _Good_. He could breathe again… but he was shaking and felt more unstable than ever. He’d pulled away from her – emotionally – first yet her taking a step back from him made him yearn for that warmth back.

“You know… sometimes it’s the easiest thing in the world to blame yourself because at least it’s an answer.”

It was all it took for his expression to crumble, for him to reveal some of the storm wreaking havoc on his insides.

When she leaned her chin on the top of his knee, the action shot to his chest and he cleared his throat; loud and croaky. Then looked at her. He saw… everything. Everything to grasp and nothing to flinch away from.

“I’m glad that happened to you Felicity.” He rumbled.

Confused she simply prodded his knee.

“It made you who you are today.” Her eyes fluttered… _pretty_. “And I like that person.” A lot.

_A lot more than I’m supposed to._

It came up as a blush – her surprise – but not a red one. A pinkish hue across her neck and on the crest of her cheeks. She smiled and her eyes lit up. “Thank you.”

He couldn’t hold her stare; part of him wanting to crawl into her lap and cry whilst the rest…

“I’m okay.” The words were small.

Her head tilted and she gave him that _look_. That ‘ _please, lie to someone who can’t see right through you_ ’ look.

A grin broke out of him and he shocked himself by chuckling, his eyes slightly wet. “I’ll _be_ okay.” He corrected.

“You were muttering…”

He stilled.

“When I came in,” she tentatively confirmed, “you were saying ‘ _you’re not real_ ’. ‘ _I tried to save you_ ’.”

Watching her… wanting her to take back those words and knowing she wouldn’t… he remained silent. Beseeching her.

She didn’t say another word; she just…stroked a hand up and down his thigh.

It was far more contact than she normally allowed between them but maybe she sensed how fragile he felt. Her touch wasn’t a push. He knew she’d be okay if he didn’t tell her. But…

She’d given a piece of herself to him, to judge for his own caprice, without expecting anything in return… when all anybody he’d ever known: Tommy, Laurel, Sara, his mother, Thea, his father, Walter, Helena, McKenna, Amanda Waller… Slade – even Diggle – had pressed constant expectations upon him.

In the odd serenity the Foundry currently presented – odd in that he was still sitting on the floor, in the glass, with Felicity kneeling next to him in the only clear space with her warmth against his leg – he opened his mouth. “Slade Wilson.” It was like swallowing glass and he saw her wince at the obvious discomfort on his face. “He… he was on the island. He was my friend.” He licked his lips waiting for her reaction.

She didn’t do anything – no change in expression, no movement – except to mutter. “Troubling use of past tense there.”

He shook his head. “This isn’t really about what happened to him; more of…” Say it. “More of what happened to Shado.”

“Shado?” Then her face cleared. “Oh… that woman you mentioned? Did you see her again?”

Unlike before, Felicity wasn’t showing any incredulity in the face yet another woman from his past resurfacing in any way. Though she’d be right; another romance failure. “No. I saw Slade.”

Of course she’d be confused. “Then why-”

“She was killed.” He forced out. “She was killed and it was my fault.”

Pure Felicity tact; she remained silent. There was a small furrow between her brows but she knew better than to appeal to his inner child, to say ‘it wasn’t your fault’. It wouldn’t work, she understood that, but it was more like… in her stare there was no pity. No judgement. No hard cynicism. If anything, all he saw there… was wonderment. And some sadness. _For_ him. Not against him.

“And Slade loved Shado.” He concluded. “He hated me until his final breath.”

She nodded – _I understand_. “Okay.” She murmured, her tone a caress, a touch he wouldn’t have allowed – one he couldn’t tolerate right now, not without breaking – that she subconsciously seemed to realise he needed. “Accept it and move on.”

He blinked at the firm words spoken in such a beautiful tone.

She half smiled. “No matter what I say you won’t believe that you weren’t at fault. But what happened? It’s in the past where it should stay. Bringing it with you, here?” She gestured to their surroundings. “It’ll destabilise you from the inside out. Unless you learn to accept that what happened – whatever that is – _happened_ , you’ll never be able to move forwards.”

In a slightly coy move, which was unusual for Felicity… and _sly_ , she pressed down on his thigh and leaned in closer until her face - her raised eyebrows, as if to say ‘I dare you to prove me wrong’, were just a few inches from his. “And I know you Oliver. No matter how much you deny it, you hope for a bright future more than anybody I’ve ever met.” Her teeth tugged on her lower lip in a smile that simply told him just how much she cared about him. “And you…” Speaking close to a whisper, like she was exchanging secret for secret she finished. “You deserve it more than anybody I’ve ever met too.”

Forgiveness.

Maybe it was that simple.

To hear those words; that he was worthy. That happiness… maybe it wasn’t just around the corner, but maybe – if he let himself – he could be happy one day.

It was a _dream_.

But… when Felicity was close it became more real than not. A reality to pursue.

It trailed – his gaze – over the features of her face; eyes that sparkled, her unblemished skin, peach shaped cheekbones, those full lips…

He smiled at her. “Thank you.” It was difficult to believe that just minutes before he’d hallucinated his departed enemy/ex-comrade. “Felicity.”

Ignoring the way her mouth opened in honest surprise – at his words and how he hadn’t moved away from her which was their norm – Oliver looked over her shoulder. “Where’s Barry?”

…Because she’d been with him when she’d left.

“Barry… Oh, Barry!” As if she’d just remembered the man’s existence… he pushed down a _smirk_ and pressed his lips together.

He just… yeah. He didn’t like him all that much.

He was a good guy – a _boy_ really – and he’d helped them – _stepping on toes and lying to my face_ – but… he just bugged him.

“I told Barry to go watch the countdown without me.”

_Oh… the particle accelerator._

He cocked his head, confused. “You change your mind?”

“No. I just…” her eyes flittered away and she looked a bit awkward. “You looked like you didn’t really want to be alone.” She shrugged. “Was I right?”

His mouth opened, forming words his brain wasn’t made aware of yet. She just had this look on her face; a poise only Felicity seemed capable because how she managed to look like she was smiling when she wasn’t actually smiling was a mystery to him. She was simply waiting for a response on whether she was wrong.  He closed his mouth. Tilted his head.

His lips curved, gentle and grateful.

Her responding smile lit up the dark places in the Foundry.

“We should probably get up.” She muttered, a little pink faced.

“Hm.” In a quick move he shifted his hands beneath him and rose to his feet-

She _hissed_.

Eyes shooting back down he found Felicity half crouched, but she’d used a hand to brace herself on rising too. Against the glass strewn floor.

His left hand was reaching towards her before he knew what he was doing. “You okay?”

She grimaced, her nose wrinkling. “Just lamenting my absence of any and all hand eye coordination.” She shook her head. “You were lying in it and you weren’t even cut.”

A breath left him – a slight hint towards humour – as his hands gently pulled her to her feet via her biceps. Again, her warm skin reminded him he was grateful she was there…

But not so grateful to see the thin trail of blood on her palm.

Wincing as she pulled out a piece of glass from her palm, Felicity bit her lip. “Ouch.”

Ouch.

He sighed and, of course, she took it the wrong way.

“I’m sorry; I should have been watching my surroundings instead of watching you.” Immediately she backtracked; her eyes slammed closed and she shook her head rapidly, her mouth twisting in rueful self-derision. “I didn’t mean _watching_ you, watching you, I meant-”

“I know.” He consoled (because he did), examining the palm of her hand. “There’s still a piece stuck in there.”

“…Oh.”

Fingers brushing under the cut – the lodged glass didn’t move – he nodded, “Yeah,” placing a hand on her shoulder and guiding her over to the medical table.

“Oliver, I don’t think this requires medical attention-oh!”

Hands on the curve of her – unusually defined – hips he’d lifted her bodily to sit on the table. She was roughly at his height so he didn’t miss her surprised blinks. Taking in the way she searched his face, he didn’t smile…

But he did wink at her before walking away to grab the basic med kit.

A burst of laughter left her – it was more a giggle really – and it was such a pretty sound he almost joined in, unable to help the way his spine tingled at hearing it.

But, when he returned to stand in front of her, the light-hearted quality to the moment left him so quickly he had to suck in a breath.

Though no longer red, a fine bluish hand print was starting to surface on her neck.

Jaw tight, he stared at the bruise, reaching for a pair of tweezers. Guilt and regret flooded his stomach again, his throat closing around bile as his heart plummeted. When he spoke his voice was so rough he barely understood the words coming out of his mouth. “Sorry.” He swallowed, eyes flickering away - from her neck, her discerning eyes; all of it – to her hand. “I am.” He promised, needing her to believe him. “I thought…” The breath he took was long and deep as he raised her palm to his gaze, coaxing – softly – the small shard of glass out of her skin. “Let’s just say I didn’t realise how strong my demons are.”

It was silent for a moment.

“We… we all have darkness inside of us. Not necessarily a ‘good’ and a ‘bad’ or and Id and a Superego; humans are more complex than that.” She started, slowly, quietly.

But her words stirred his memory until… Shado. She’d said something very similar once.

Blue eyes flickered hesitantly to blue and let them hold him with her there.

“We’re shades of grey.” She continued. “We can do terrible things, just as we can commit great acts of kindness. There is no right or wrong, not really. Sometimes…” She smiled and his brow furrowed, confused. “Sometimes there’s simply no choice to make.”

Blinking, a fragile half-smile involuntarily formed on his face.

She nodded, head slightly tilting to search his eyes. “Accidents happen Oliver. They don’t make you the bad guy. But,” she took a breath and it was very much in the realm of _‘can I think this now, can I say this to you?’_ “Being your friend means I get to be there for you. Even when you’re at your worst. Even when you don’t think there’s anything to… to love about you.”

It was so strange… two women, two good – pure and honest – women, thought him worthy in bringing relief. Saw a light in him; that he wasn’t just darkness. That he could save and be saved.

Finished with her hand, he pressed a piece of gauze there against the cut… really, he just held her hand. Tightly. Looking down at their laced fingers.

There was nothing he could say. And he felt that he didn’t really have to. She understood; he could feel it coming off her in soothing waves.

Bowing his head, he closed his eyes, bringing her hand up to his face in both of his and… just leaning into them, his forehead touching her knuckles.

It was like a weight had been shed.

He stayed like that for almost a minute before her thumb brushed against the back of his hand. It was incredibly tentative, because… yeah. They’d never done this, had never been this close.

It made him act; made him do something he’d never done, something he shouldn’t have done but something he couldn’t help but doing just then.

Before she could do or say anything he lifted his head and, without looking into her eyes, leant forwards, tucking his head into the place between her shoulder and jawline…  and touched his lips to the side of her neck.

Her pulse jumped once. Hard.

As kisses go it was brief and light; like the flutter of a butterflies wings.

…And it _burned_. The heat of her skin scorching his lips.

Pulling back as fast as he’d gone forwards, eyes down, he moved away – away from _her_ – taking the kit with him back to the cabinets. Only once he was there did he release the breath that had caught in his chest and consider how tight his abdomen had become. He took another, _deeper_ , breath and blinked at how it almost shattered his composure. It made his hands tremble and he flexed his fingers to rid himself of the sensation.

Preparing himself for a red faced IT girl he half-turned, stealing a glance-

Everything stopped. The world placed on _pause_. Every sharp edge to his expression, the confused furrow and wretched countenance dropped from his face leaving it _wide_ open.

She wasn’t reacting the way he’d expected; with blushing surprise and maybe some uncertain awkward shifting…

Sat there, she’d simply brought a hand up to her neck; right where he’d been. Her fingers lightly touched the skin, as if she still felt him there and her mouth was open. Just a little. Her eyes far away. Wonderment and warmth echoed from her like a siren call… lost in the memory, in _that_ moment.

Willingly, he stared.

There was no evidence of a _girl_ there, no clarity proving that she was five years younger than him…she tasted her lips, breathing in.

A slow, _slow_ , coil wrapped around the muscles of his throat before sliding even slower _down_ … down his chest and further on until his body was a tight fist of want.

 _I didn’t… I didn’t know._ That he could have that affect on her. On _any_ woman. Like…

He’d turned her world upside down.

Well... if he did, it was only fair.  Payback and all.

Licking his lips, he swallowed, knowing his eyes were darker – pupils blown - with a meaning he was too scared to face just yet.

“Go to dinner with me.” He suddenly rumbled.

Like she’d just realised she was being watched she jolted, her hand dropping and she turned to face him. Her lashes fluttered, eyes widening. “Dinner?” She repeated as if wondering if she’d heard him wrong.

“Dinner.” He confirmed. “With me.”

 _What am I doing,_ his brain panicked.

 _What’s right,_ his heart replied.

Mouth open - _oh_ – her eyes travelled over him, searching for platonic foundation behind his request and _not_ finding it. At all.

She could say no. She could tell him that Barry was waiting for her. She could-

“Okay.” She whispered.

His heart pounded as his body thrummed with an energy he didn’t know was possible. _Okay_. “Now.”

She nodded, pulling in her lower lip. Her eyes were shining. “ _Now_.”

 


End file.
